History is bound to be a bit of a recurring theme with all this vintage bike business and it’s nothing less than auspicious that a ghost ship from the past rolled in yesterday and took harbour. I got a text from an old friend, Jim, who I met 30 years ago when we both aspired to a life in music. ‘Check out the discography on Bristol Archive Records,’ was all it said. It was late but curiosity would not let me sleep and I flicked the PC on.
Our band released a demo of moody noises in the early ‘80s which was picked up by a music journalist and touted as the music of the moment. These songs are now available to buy via iTunes, as part of a wider compilation of post-punk Bristolia - with a suitable disclaimer to deflect future royalty claims. To be honest, it won’t sell but I bought my own demo, just for the hell of it.
Sitting in the partial darkness of a house all tucked up in bed, with my headphones on, hearing the thump and chime of cheap instruments mixed in with gallons of tape hiss made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. It wasn’t many years after that that Jim and I rocked up in Japan, bought a load more gear, and re-invented the band. After that we tried London on for a few years before growing out of it.
The thing is, I came to live in Oxfordshire after London, I still have my guitar and am even thinking about getting another one – the one I always dreamed of owning but never had the money. This continuity brings the garbled mess spilling out of the headphones via the internet right back into the present, a dream manifest as real.
There's a photo of a band called The Pop Group on the site which really sums up my memory of the time. Scruffy boys in charity shop coats, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. It looks really cold in the picture, taken in a church, and I remember the boys in the band telling stories of melting the ice in the toilet pan with the first piss of the day, in the squat where we practiced.
I used to think of these as my lost years. We clung on to our dreams in penury, pumping 50p pieces into the meter for electricty but this and the scene were soon gone. The old squats became bright expensive houses once again, Punk got left behind as a new era of greed and profligacy gained momentum. It was a moment in time, but it was where adulthood began for us and it remains part of what we are.
I talked a bit about ‘feeling the journey’ and this is exactly what I mean, artifacts connecting people with the past, bringing on fleeting waves of shadowy sensation. When you get a bit old, the edge gets dulled and this eerie poking of a slumbering memory is worth it, for the buzz. I feel good today, more whole in a way for the reaffirmation that we were there, we had a laugh and we left our mark, however slight, along with all the other moody youths in a cold and rainy (mainly) post punk Bristol.
So I’m really looking forward to my first proper ride up the A417 and beyond, for the sensations this may bring. I took the bike to be inspected by the DVLA, which was a bit of an anti climax. The inspector kept referring to the decision that ‘they’ might make on receipt of his report. I thought he was ‘they’, my mistake.
The chassis number is still tripping things up। I have to get another letter from the dude at the REOC, stating that the frame is ‘of the period’. Then they’ll give me a modern VIN (Vehicle Identification Number) which has to be fixed/stamped to the frame. After that I can apply for an age related plate. The Black Bullet, according to them, is a Reconstructed Classic, which is ridiculous in my view, but then what do I know?
Our band released a demo of moody noises in the early ‘80s which was picked up by a music journalist and touted as the music of the moment. These songs are now available to buy via iTunes, as part of a wider compilation of post-punk Bristolia - with a suitable disclaimer to deflect future royalty claims. To be honest, it won’t sell but I bought my own demo, just for the hell of it.
Sitting in the partial darkness of a house all tucked up in bed, with my headphones on, hearing the thump and chime of cheap instruments mixed in with gallons of tape hiss made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. It wasn’t many years after that that Jim and I rocked up in Japan, bought a load more gear, and re-invented the band. After that we tried London on for a few years before growing out of it.
The thing is, I came to live in Oxfordshire after London, I still have my guitar and am even thinking about getting another one – the one I always dreamed of owning but never had the money. This continuity brings the garbled mess spilling out of the headphones via the internet right back into the present, a dream manifest as real.
There's a photo of a band called The Pop Group on the site which really sums up my memory of the time. Scruffy boys in charity shop coats, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. It looks really cold in the picture, taken in a church, and I remember the boys in the band telling stories of melting the ice in the toilet pan with the first piss of the day, in the squat where we practiced.
I used to think of these as my lost years. We clung on to our dreams in penury, pumping 50p pieces into the meter for electricty but this and the scene were soon gone. The old squats became bright expensive houses once again, Punk got left behind as a new era of greed and profligacy gained momentum. It was a moment in time, but it was where adulthood began for us and it remains part of what we are.
I talked a bit about ‘feeling the journey’ and this is exactly what I mean, artifacts connecting people with the past, bringing on fleeting waves of shadowy sensation. When you get a bit old, the edge gets dulled and this eerie poking of a slumbering memory is worth it, for the buzz. I feel good today, more whole in a way for the reaffirmation that we were there, we had a laugh and we left our mark, however slight, along with all the other moody youths in a cold and rainy (mainly) post punk Bristol.
So I’m really looking forward to my first proper ride up the A417 and beyond, for the sensations this may bring. I took the bike to be inspected by the DVLA, which was a bit of an anti climax. The inspector kept referring to the decision that ‘they’ might make on receipt of his report. I thought he was ‘they’, my mistake.
The chassis number is still tripping things up। I have to get another letter from the dude at the REOC, stating that the frame is ‘of the period’. Then they’ll give me a modern VIN (Vehicle Identification Number) which has to be fixed/stamped to the frame. After that I can apply for an age related plate. The Black Bullet, according to them, is a Reconstructed Classic, which is ridiculous in my view, but then what do I know?
